


Self-Defense Mechanisms

by Arsenic



Series: Jon Walker; Dark Lord [2]
Category: Bandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: The Perp-of-the-Week is coming for Jon.





	Self-Defense Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: Jon/Hermione, Ryan/Tom (technically Bob/Spencer...)  
Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence
> 
> For sauciloo, for her generous donation in help_haiti, and in general for being my girl forevers. This story is a sequel to Jon Walker, Dark Lord, as Sauci gave me permission to screw around in that 'verse again. I'm not sure it makes sense without that fic.
> 
> Ginormous thanks to rossetti, who made this fic roughly one billion times better than it was before she got her hands on it. All remaining mistakes are mine.

The break up actually _was_ Jon's fault. Just not in the way everybody (the fans) seemed to think it was.

*

Jon woke to the roar of Ryan's fireplace, which had definitely not been on when he fell asleep. He blinked at the green flames and Hermione, whose head was amidst them. Then he smiled sleepily. "Hi."

"Tell Ryan to hire a chimney sweep. Christ. Has he _ever_ cleaned this thing?"

"Ryan forgets to pay his electricity bills."

"That's a no, then."

Jon laughed. "What time is it?"

"Almost three your time."

Jon frowned. She didn't usually call at ass 'o clock in the morning, despite the fact that he'd told her she could. "You all right?"

She shook her head. "You keep up on wizarding news, yes? Enough."

"The highlights," Jon agreed. "I keep hoping someone'll create a Twitter, but--"

She laughed, although it was strained. "Have you read about the serial murderers at large?"

"The couple?" Jon nodded. "Hard to miss. Four deaths of significant wizards in three months, two others missing."

"They're what Aurors call _raptor anima_."

"Babe, my Latin--"

"Thief of souls. Well, roughly. It's not a terribly accurate description, in any case. They have no interest in souls--theirs or any others. They drain powers and collect them as their own. There's been very few instances of _raptor anima_ in wizarding history, as it takes someone of great strength with absolutely no moral grounding. Never, _never_ has there been two, or one and an accomplice. Popular theory is that these sorts of criminals don't have the capacity to attach to others."

"These did," Jon pointed out.

"Yes." She was looking at something he couldn't see, worrying at her bottom lip. "Well, the latest theory is that they have existed in pairs before, but they've functioned differently, as a tag team of sorts, and we were never aware of the connections. It's possible. There were two operating at around the same time in the last century, and there's some indication that there were another two at the time of the Founders."

He let her exercise the academic in her before asking, "This has something to do with me?"

"We have reason to believe they are in the States."

"Reason?"

"Salem's Transfigurations Master was found dead earlier today. No magical signature remained, just like the others."

Jon swallowed, and tried to breath, quell some of the nausea. "And you think--"

"Jon, you are one of the strongest wielders of mental magic since the time of the Founders, yes, I think they'll come after you." She pursed her lips. "And I think they'll go through anyone they need to to get to you. Wizard or no."

Jon closed his eyes for a few seconds. He strengthened his mental wards, soothing himself with the feel of those walls. "Hermione--"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean--"

Jon shook his head. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she'd fought a war before she'd graduated high school. Other times, well, it was pretty hard. "No, you're right."

"Jon," she said softly. "The others victims have been wizards who were deeply entrenched in the wizarding community. They could defend themselves. I'm...concerned."

Jon's stomach turned, squeezing hard. He wished Ryan were awake, were sitting on the couch with him. Not that it would make any sort of difference, except for how Ryan would be there. That was kind of all the difference Jon needed. "Oh, well, I'm scared shitless, so at least you aren't feeling blithe, or anything."

She let that fly, then asked, "How're your wards?"

"You augmented them, Hermione. The ones here and the ones in Chicago. But I'm betting they've got nothing on _Salem's._" Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

"I'm coming, Jon. It's just, I'm England's liaison to all of the involved countries' law-enforcement branches, so I'm going to have to convince them to let me set up camp there. Tragically, it should be easier now."

"Can't you make some argument about just how very much we don't want evil assholes getting hold of the kind of power I control?" Jon hated bringing it up, but he thought it probably needed to be said.

"Oh, believe me, that's first on my list."

"Right." Jon nodded. "Right, you're Hermione Granger."

She smiled in acknolwedgement. "It should be said that I miss you."

Jon reached out, into the cool, ticklish tongues of the green flame. "Yeah."

"Keep you and yours safe. I'll be there."

He waited until after she had shut down the floo to whisper, "Hurry."

*

Jon called a band meeting at around nine, which was early for them, given that they were on break, but he couldn't sleep and he needed this done as soon as it could be. They met at Ryan's, because Jon insisted--Brendon's wasn't warded. (He didn't say that. Just just said, "R's, 9, no negotiations.")

Ryan stumbled into the kitchen and took some of the coffee Jon had made. He said, "You spelled out 'negotiations'."

Jon tried to smile for him. "Serious business, Ryan Ross."

Ryan momentarily forgot about his coffee. "What the fuck's going on?"

Jon just shook his head. "Not until the others get here. I'm only doing this once."

Ryan said, "Okay, but I'm making those insta-cinnabun things."

Jon did his best to look duly threatened. Generally, Ryan's cooking skills were a thing of menace, but he was pretty good with all the Pilsbury products. Jon sipped at his coffee without tasting it, and waited for the others to show.

Spencer came with Bob, and Jon cursed beneath his breath, because he should have seen that. There wasn't much band business that Spencer didn't share, and when they were able to be together, they didn't often separate. Jon said, "Um, Spence," and Bob, who was an all-around stand-up guy said, "It's cool, I'll watch TV."

Jon threw him an apologetic look and Bob said, "Trust me, we've had our share."

Brendon was late, but he also came bearing bagels, so the other two forgave him, and Jon was too upset to really give a crap. Once they were settled with various foodstuffs and mugs freshly-filled with coffee, Jon said, "I'm leaving the band."

Brendon choked on his coffee, and didn't recover for long enough that Spencer had to get up and direct him to the sink just in case he puked while Spencer worked to get him breathing again. When Brendon was breathing again, albeit shakily, Spencer said, "Okay. I'm going to assume, given that chain of events, that you're not playing an asshole joke."

Jon closed his eyes. He couldn't look at them and do this. He opened his mouth and started talking about what Hermione had told him, and somehow ended up at the important point that, "I can't protect myself on a tour, and I can't protect you guys if they think you're a way to get to me."

There was a long, long moment of silence after that, but finally Brendon said, "No."

"It's not a request, Bren. It's not a choice. I love the band, but I love you guys so, _so_ much more and I'm not risking it. Period. Case closed."

"We'll figure something out," Brendon said. "We'll--"

"What?" Jon asked. "Hire wizarding mercs as bodyguards? How are we going to explain that to Pete? Or the media? Or fans? Anyone, really? We're not exactly Britney Spears, in case our level of celebrity has gone unnoticed. Also, do you have any idea what that kind of person charges, if he's worth anything?"

"That's just one idea," Brendon said, sounding plaintive, and looking desperately between Spencer and Ryan.

"I'm not--"

"You're not going alone," Spencer interrupted.

Brendon asked, "What? Spence, you can't--"

"If he's busy worrying about us, he's busy not protecting himself," Spencer said. "So, yeah, okay, his plan makes some sense, but he's not going off on his own."

"I have Tom, and Hermione's coming and--"

"And if you're planning on having Tom, then I guess I'll be there, too," Ryan said in a tone of voice that Jon rarely ever heard from him, the one that brooked absolutely no disagreement.

Jon disagreed. "Tom has defensive capabilities that I don't have, and he won't let himself be left out if he knows, which he will by now, because someone from England will have told him." Wizards were the fucking worst when it came to gossip. And if he could have sent Tom away, hell, if he could have made Hermione stay away, if he thought he had _any_ chance to push either of them to safety they'd be sitting around the kitchen table not eating cinnabuns as well. For the first time in his life, if Jon had thought he could handle _obliviating_ someone else, could justify it to himself, he'd send both of them far, far away. But he couldn't. And there wasn't an argument in the world that Tom and Hermione wouldn't see through. Tom was always smart and all the most horribly wrong of times, and Hermione was just, well, Hermione.

"And I'm not breaking up with Tom, so if you figure they'll use us because we're your band, what are they going to do if they find out I'm dating your best friend?" Ryan asked, then calmly took a bite of his cinnabun, like they were talking about a new song on the radio.

"Ryan goes with Jon, then." Spencer sounded like he'd swallowed something wrong, and for a moment, Jon honestly didn't understand. Then everything slid into place.

"You _can't_ just leave them," Jon said to Ryan.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I'm _not_ leaving them. I'm going with you. Now go do floo conferences with people to set safety measures up while we figure out how to make this go down, and what the hell we're telling Pete."

"But--" Jon said.

"Whatever we come up with, can you make me think it's real?" Brendon asked, his voice small.

For a moment, breathing hurt. "I--" _I don't do that. I don't._ There were a million reasons he didn't, and sure, most of them had to do with consent, but some were because the things that people knew, that were in their collections of thoughts and memories and lessons, were _theirs_, and Jon wasn't a thief, not even of little things. But Brendon was looking at him, desperate and sure--Brendon never made up his mind half-way, it was always full-tilt, like a windmill in a tornado. And Jon knew that there was an exception that proved every rule. "If-- If that's what you want, yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

He looked at Spencer, but Spencer shook his head. "Not me. Not unless you think it'll keep you safer."

Jon gestured to the room with the fireplace. "I'll ah, I'll talk to them."

Spencer nodded. "Just remember to distract Bob first."

Jon grabbed the rest of the cinnabuns.

*

Jon and Ryan flooed Tom after Brendon, Spencer and Bob had left. Jon was exhausted--reshaping someone's memories and understanding of a situation without affecting his personality or damaging his mind was time consuming, careful and complicated work. Jon just hoped Spencer remembered all the things Jon had told him about not accidentally triggering Brendon's real memories.

After the initial hellos, Jon sunk back into the couch and let Ryan explain. He started paying attention again when Tom--still in human form--growled and said, "No. No, no, no, this is not-- Ryan you are not doing this."

Jon said, "This is kinda between--"

"Don't leave the room, asshole," Tom said. "You _agreed_ to this?"

"Compromised, I think, is closer to the truth."

"Jesus, Jon, you do realize that you're actually the one with all the power, right?" Tom looked worn, sharp.

"Yes, Tom, I fucking realize that." Just the mere idea of doing to Ryan what he'd done to Brendon _without_ Ryan's permission made Jon sick enough that he had to swallow back the urge to vomit. "I also realize that I have the ethics of a Muggle. I can't-- I can't make the decisions you make."

"It _protects_ them, Jon!"

"Oh, fuck you," Ryan interjected.

"That's not our decision," Jon said softly.

Tom looked over at Ryan, his eyes big and _scared_, and Jon could see the moment where Ryan's frame softened in forgiveness, if not in understanding. Ryan said, "You're an asshole."

"You're mine," Tom said in response, like that explained everything. It did, for Jon, but Jon had known Tom since he'd been busy accidentally blowing up other kids' toys.

"He'll stay in LA," Jon said. "The house is warded and it's me they want, not him. So long as I make it clear where I am, and where he is, he should be safe."

"Yeah, that's why you broke up with the rest of your band." Tom's tone was soft, serious, terrified and uncertain all at once.

The words made Jon sick to his stomach. "I'm sorry. Tom, I'm--"

"Yeah. I-- Why couldn't it at least have actually been your fault?" Tom ran a hand over his face.

Ryan said, "Come be with me." The tone of the invitation was so flat, it wasn't even clear whether it was request or order. Then he said, "Come keep me safe."

Tom tucked a hand behind his neck. "What do I tell the guys? We're recording."

Jon looked at Tom for a long time. Tom shook his head. "I can't-- What if it puts them in danger?"

"How is it going to endanger them any more than they are now? Without even knowing?"

"What if-- I mean, Max and Al, they're fucking kids--"

"You've known Max for _how_ long?" Jon asked. "And they're not that much younger than us. Tom, Jesus, trust me, okay? Just...trust them."

"And then come," Ryan added softly.

Tom looked at Ryan for a moment. "I'll be there."

*

The first month, Jon texted Ryan every time Dylan fell off a counter, or Brendon tweeted, or any other small, insignificant act that he could fit into a text occurred. Ryan just kept sending pictures of his backyard, and quotes about being Zen that Jon was fairly certain he'd Googled. Ryan was not a Zen guy.

Six weeks in, in the middle of the night, when Jon couldn't sleep because he'd heard one fucking chorus of "New Perspective" in the grocery store earlier that day, Jon called Ryan and said, "You can hate me for sending Spencer away."

Ryan said, "It didn't happen like that." He sounded tired and sad, but not as though he'd just woken up.

Jon said, "It's one in the morning where you are."

"It's three where you are."

Jon closed his eyes and didn't say, _I miss them,_ didn't say, _I can't even tune my fucking bass._

Into the silence, Ryan said, "It gets easier."

"Ry--"

"I didn't think it would at first. When I watched them lower the coffin into his grave. But it did. There are sometimes whole days, now, when I can think about him and it's not sharp."

"You didn't send him away," Jon said, feeling like an asshole, but it was true.

"No," Ryan said slowly. "I left him."

"It's worse, knowing I could have them back."

"You can't." Ryan's voice was flat now, flat and cold and _sure_. "There's nothing to forgive right now, but if you put them in danger--"

"I wouldn't. I wouldn't."

"You've already proven that."

Jon took a deep, slow breath. "Thanks for--"

"Jon. It gets easier."

*

Jon knew better than to underestimate sociopathic wizards. He also knew better than to let his guard down. Possibly, though, living outside the wizarding world had made him a little soft, and the emotional toll of the past months had finally had an effect, because when Ryan and Tom disappeared off a fucking _airplane_ between LA and Chicago, on Halloween fucking _Eve_, Jon was more than a little taken aback.

Jon had felt slightly off all night, but he'd checked Twitter and everyone seemed to be okay. He asked Hermione, "You feel anything?"

She rubbed at his neck and said, "I'm not an empath wizard, love."

"Yeah," he said and went to go set out the drinks.

He was in the middle of a conversation with one of his brothers when his phone rang. It showed Sean's number, so he picked up and asked, "Hey, where are you?"

"At the airport. Jon--"

"Wait, what are you doing at the airport?"

"Jon, Tom and Ryan were coming in, like a surprise."

"Were?"

"They're not on the plane. I--"

"You made sure they got on, right?"

"Yeah, Tom texted right before."

"I have to go, Sean. Get out of there, okay?"

"Jon--"

"Sean, get out of there." Jon hung up and said to Mike, "I have to find Hermione."

He loosened his mental wards and found her in the kitchen. Then he widened the net, seeing if he could find Tom or Ryan. If Tom could, he'd broadcast. Tom might not always have the sense to come in out of the rain, but he knew _how_ to come in, if he needed to. Jon couldn't feel anything. It was unlikely his hunters would kill someone close to him before their hostages gave them the information they wanted. If anything, the thought made Jon feel worse.

Hermione took one look at his face and asked, "What happened?"

"Tom and Ryan were evidently on their way, on a plane, but they never made it."

"I need to make some calls. See if I can trace magical signals or Apparition jumps within the correct areas."

"I need--"

"You need to get somewhere they wouldn't know you would go," she said.

"Hermione--"

"Keep your wards tight, open every fifteen minutes. I will tell you when I know something."

"Promise," Jon said.

"Jon--"

"Feel lucky I'm not forcing an Unbreakable." He was not kidding.

She looked at him. He touched her cheek and let some of himself bleed into her. He said, "You have Harry and Ron. I have the four of them."

She pulled away. "Every fifteen minutes, Jon."

*

The coffee shops were out of the question, as were any of the parks he and Tom had used to play at in the summertime, and the diners they'd frequented late at night. For a moment, Jon couldn't think of _anywhere_ that Tom wouldn't think to find him. Then it occurred to him to go somewhere _he_ wouldn't think to find himself. Which, as it turned out, was the shopping district of downtown. Jon never went there; the stores were too expensive and people were always asking him for directions. (Tom said it was because he looked like he didn't bite. Then Jon usually made an inappropriate statement about wolves.)

Tonight, though, the congestion made it the perfect place. Particularly as it was Halloween, and things were even more confused, mixed up, than they normally would have been. Jon was able to walk quietly through the crowds, unnoticeable in his jeans and sweater. He kept a close eye on his watch, careful to reach out at the proscribed times. By the third time, having heard nothing, he made himself go into a bookstore and peruse the music magazines. It wasn't a huge help, not really, not when he couldn't concentrate, but it was better than essentially pacing up and down the street.

Three hours after he'd left the house his feet were aching and it was going from cold to frigid outside and he barely expected anything, but when he slipped his wards down ever so much, he saw a place. Hermione's thought thread said, "Apparate, Jon."

Jon bit the inside of his cheek. "Fuck. It would have to be Apparition."

Then he found an empty alley, and got the hell to wherever it was he was going.

*

"Where are we?" Jon asked Hermione by way of _legilimency_. He didn't want to make any noise.

"North Dakota," she answered, equally silent. "I think."

"I meant--"

"Where I traced the final Apparition signal to. All the others were legal, just unauthorized."

"So if this isn't--"

"Jon, bloody _reach out_. You'll know."

Right. Right. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? It took a couple of breaths--he was terrified of _not_ feeling them, perhaps even half as terrified as he was of _feeling_ them. When he let go, and did a careful exploration, it took less than a second for him to know they were in the right place, because both Ryan and Tom were scared out of their minds and in pain. Jon made the connection stay open, made himself not pull back so that he could touch each of them, let them know they were here, that he wouldn't let anything else happen.

Ryan immediately freaked the hell out, mentally shouting at Jon to get the fuck away. Jon had to pull out then, lest either of the _raptor anima_ find him through the link. As it was, if they were at all proficient in the mind arts, they were going to know something was up, given Ryan's reaction.

He told Hermione, "They gave Tom something. It's reacting badly to his magic."

She nodded. "Blocks the neural centers that respond to magical pull. They did it with some of the others."

Jon was about to ask how she knew if they'd all been dead, but his years of watching shows with M.E.s kicked in, and he didn't. "Tell me we have a plan."

"How badly do you want them back?" she asked, this time in a whisper, as if he needed to hear it, her gaze intent on him.

In the back of his mind, where Jon could always feel Tom, even through his wards, he could _hear_ him screaming. "The plan, Hermione."

"I'm going to give you everything I have, strength-wise, and you're going to do what everyone in the world always fears you will."

Jon blinked at her, slowly. "What if--" What if I can't stop? What if I lose myself? What if I _like_ it?

"They've killed at least six that we know of, and they've got Tom and Ryan. If you have a better plan--"

Jon shook his head. He'd made up his mind at the first letter of Tom's name. She said, "All right. I don't really need to do it this way, but." She fit her mouth to his and kissed him. Jon opened himself up, and took everything she had to give.

*

It wasn't like fighting Harry. Jon might have felt overwhelmed by Harry, but Harry'd had none of the malice that these two had. The worst was that he could feel the other wizards, the ones who had been taken into the _raptor anima_ and who were now twisted to their purposes. It wasn't as though they still had emotion, or even substance, but they didn't _fit_, precisely, either. The feeling was disorienting, distracting, and might have even given his enemy the upper hand, but fighting like this, Jon could feel Tom's fear, Ryan's panic, and that was more than enough to keep him focused to the level he needed to be.

Jon knew his attack could be nothing as simple as commanded a paralysis directly through their neural pathways, using it to gain the upperhand, but he tried it first, nonetheless. It was visited back on him with a force he could not have foreseen and then it was just his mind left to him, and they were nearing, he could feel it. He was glad he had left Hermione behind, in the fields, where she was less likely to be found, at least immediately.

Tom shouted, "Jon!" and Jon didn't think, not really, not at all, he just attacked, responding to the terror in Tom's cry.

Sometimes, in the early days when he had toured with Panic, Jon used to watch the way Ryan would tear up pieces of paper with lyrics he deemed useless. He would tear and tear and tear until the paper was more useful for papier mache than anything else. That was a bit what destroying someone's mind felt like.

He was pretty sure he'd only manage one before the other got to him, but then he realized--without even being sure how, it was just a feeling, just knowledge lodged and hidden in the outermost reaches of his consciousness--that the fact that they'd siphoned off powers from wizards jointly was connecting them. The first one was nearly dead, but the second one was twisting, _morphing_ mentally under the control Jon was exerting on the first.

All the same, no more than a second after the first was dead, Jon moved to the second, quick and vicious about finishing the job. When he was done, he felt as though he'd driven all the breath from himself, from the world. He called, "Hermione!" unsure of whether he'd used his voice or his mind. Then he passed out.

*

Jon woke up to the feeling of being crushed. It was kind of warm, though, and Jon's head hurt really badly, worse even than the first time Tom had gotten him drunk--he'd given Jon beer _after_ shots of tequila, the asshole--and he just wasn't sure he wanted to move. He groaned a little, mostly because he was pretty sure his head was actually going to split open and fall onto the floor and he thought maybe he'd better give some warning. The weight on him popped up.

"Jon?" Hermione asked. "Jon, are you awake?"

"Ow," Jon said, more out of instinct than anything else.

Lips touched his forehead then, and there was a bit of a brush of, "Sorry," but it hadn't been verbal, because it hadn't hurt. A moment later there were hands on his neck and back, helping him to sit up, and then there was a cup at his lips. Someone said, "Drink."

It was probably foolish, but Jon drank. The hands on his back felt right, big and warm and familiar in a way he couldn't explain through the pain. They laid him back down and Jon worked his hardest just to breathe. It got easier after a few minutes, the worst of the pain breaking up and scattering off. He convinced himself to open his eyes and discovered that he was in his own apartment, on his couch.

Tom was sitting in the lazy chair and Hermione was on the floor, tucked right next to the couch. Jon said, "Hi."

Tom rubbed his hand over his face and said, "'Bout time, asshole."

"How long?" Jon asked.

"Four days."

Jon reached down and buried his hand in Hermione's hair by way of apology. She smiled silently up at him. He took a breath, counted to three, and asked, "Ryan?"

"We gave him the bed," Tom said softly. "_Cruciatus_ on Muggles is--" Tom looked away.

Jon fought his need to destroy something physically, crush it in his hands. Instead he took careful inventory of both Tom and Hermione. Finally he asked, "You're okay?"

Tom nodded. "Hermione knows some serious healers. I think they might have made me younger."

"I'll buy diapers later."

Tom flipped him off. Jon asked, "Can I go see him? Ryan?"

Tom stood up and tugged Jon off the couch.

*

Ryan was very, very still in his sleep. Jon reached out with his mind and felt for Ryan. He was there, which made Jon calm down a little, but he was...quiet, like when Jon first came around, when things were so uncertain and Ryan was always afraid of losing everything. Jon climbed carefully into the bed, tucking himself up gently against Ryan.

Ryan's breath caught and he turned in a bit toward Jon. Then he actually woke up and said, "Jon. Jon?"

"Hey, Ry," Jon said softly.

Ryan's hands scrambled to get hold of Jon's shirt. Jon said, "Hey. I'm here."

"They did this-- Tom was barely breathing and they were-- We didn't tell them, though."

"Yeah," Jon said, putting his hands over Ryan's. "Hermione found you guys."

"She's good people," Ryan said while yawning.

Jon laughed quietly. "Go back to sleep."

"That magic shit fucking hurts," Ryan told him, managing to be dry and earnest at the same time.

"Not gonna happen again," Jon said.

"No promises you can't keep."

"Don't be an asshole."

"Can't really change my nature," Ryan said, and burrowed in further. Jon could feel the moment Ryan went loose and limbless, but he stayed for a bit, just in case.

*

Brendon and Spencer showed up a day later. Jon got the doorbell when it rang and stared at them for a moment. Brendon asked, "What, you didn't feel us?" and pushed his way in past Jon.

Spencer hugged Jon. "Tom called us. Said maybe we should come."

"I take it Brendon--"

Spencer shook his head. "No idea. But you can give it back, if you want. He left that in your hands."

"He's seemed pretty happy."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "He gives good public face. Where's Ryan?"

"Couch, c'mon."

Ryan and Brendon were sitting Jon's living area, Brendon pointedly ignoring Ryan, Ryan looking like someone had shot his dog but he was going to be stoic about it. No, really. Tom was looking at the whole scene from the door of the kitchen, clearly unwilling to intervene. Hermione, though, laughed and asked Tom, "What did you even say to get them here?"

"Freak cat incident," Tom said. She looked at him. He shrugged, "I kinda panicked."

"You don't even have a scratch on you," Brendon accused Jon, but then glared at Ryan, like maybe that was his fault, too.

Jon couldn't help allowing himself a touch of Brendon's fierceness, his independence, which was how he also got hit by the _pain_. He murmured, "Fuck."

Brendon's gaze whipped to him and Jon said, "Bren, you're gonna have to trust me for a bit, here," but didn't give him a chance to say yes or no, because Jon wasn't sure he could stop himself if Brendon said no, and it would kill him to actually ignore a lack of consent. Brendon didn't fight much, not really at all, which told Jon that, pissed or no, Brendon _did_ trust him. Jon wondered if he'd left some component of that in Brendon as a safety. He didn't really want to know.

In the background, Hermione was saying something, something about strength and relative energies, but Jon was working too hard on dragging Brendon's real memories to the surface without knocking anything important out of the way--he couldn't really pay attention. When he had done the best he could, he melted to the floor a little, staying awake just long enough to hear her say, "Nobody ever listens to me."

*

Jon woke up fairly certain that something had died in his mouth. He said, "Ugh."

Brendon said, "Next time Hermione tells you to wait on doing something, asshole, _wait_. She's smarter than, like, all of us combined, even with Ryan on our side."

Jon said, "Hi," and, "Um, water?"

Ryan handed him a glass. "I think I give things a little bit of balance."

Tom patted Ryan's shoulder. Jon did his best not to smile. Spencer said, "So, hey, nice of you to wake up."

"How long?" Jon asked.

"Over twenty-four hours," Tom said.

"Hermione totally pissed?" Jon asked.

They all looked between each other. Finally, Brendon said, "I think she gets the whole you-gotta-do-what-you-gotta-do thing when it comes to friends."

Probably, after all, he had been the one to point out the parallels and Jon sort of doubted she hadn't noticed before. "Where is she?"

"My place," Tom said. "She needed to use a floo in confidence. The Ministry's kinda been hammering her for not coming back after you took care of the _raptor anima_, and I think she's worried they're gonna get on your case again, so I told her to go to."

Jon wasn't entirely sure they _shouldn't_ lock him up, given his activities over the past month. "Okay."

"She's gonna take care of it, right?" Brendon sounded weird, and it took Jon a moment to identify the emotion pouring off him as anger. Jon wasn't even really opening his shields, so Brendon was pretty pissed.

"Bren?"

"It was fucking self-defense. They _tortured_ Ryan."

"And Tom," Ryan whispered, and Jon knew how he felt. Jon wished they'd gone for him directly, he really fucking did.

"They're not worried about what I did, Bren. They're worried about what else I could do." Jon fixed him with a look. "I changed your memories."

"I asked. You didn't even _offer_, I fucking asked."

"But what if I just decided it was easier, one day?"

"You won't," Spencer said quietly. Jon looked up at him. Spencer shrugged. "You looked like you'd killed _Dylan_, man, when you did it. And Hermione said you weren't just physically healing when you passed out, that the emotional strain of even giving Brendon _back_ his memories without express permission was eating at you, like you'd swallowed manticore blood."

"Manticore blood?" Potions had really not been Jon's strength.

"Takes longer than the actual venom because it's not as concentrated. Lots more painful."

Jon blinked at Tom. "There is something wrong with you."

Tom seemed unconcerned. "Don't you think, if anyone in the world was up to assessing the kind of danger powerful wizards present to the public at large, it would be Hermione? I mean, just for argument's sake, and all."

Jon opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "You might have a point."

"Happens."

Things were silent for a few minutes. Then Brendon asked, "Look, since you're _not_ evil for the moment, and I remember that you didn't leave me over a stupid argument over _songs_, could we maybe cuddle now?"

Jon moved so that he was in the very center of the bed.

*

Hermione brought dinner when she came back. "Curry," she said. "I think I miss home a bit."

She didn't say a word about the fact that all five of them were curled around each other on the bed.

Brendon sighed happily. "I _love_ Indian." He made no move to get up, though, just wiggling in closer to Jon. Jon was pretty sure if he got much closer, they would actually fuse together.

"Should I come back?" she asked softly, her gaze on Jon.

He held out his hand. She hesitated for a moment. "I'm British, you realize? We don't--"

Jon murmured a soft, "_Accio,_ Hermione," and caught her off-guard. She pretty much fell atop him, catching Brendon and Spencer on either side.

She laughed, "Oh fine, have it your way."

Jon wiggled, just a little, enough to feel the people surrounding him. "I think I will, thanks."


End file.
